Mia reached into the pocket of her torn black gown in the laundry, her fingers brushing against the worn paper she had kept hidden since the cell.

She pulled it out slowly, unfolding it with care. The edges were creased, and the ink faint, but the words carried weight.

Elowyn leaned closer, taking the paper in her hands. "Let me read it," she whispered, her voice steady despite the tension that clung to the room. Slowly, she recited the contents, each word hanging in the air, heavy with ...